


Crash & Yearn

by hiddenlongings



Category: Person of Interest (TV), The Sentinel
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Angst, F/M, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Off-screen Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-29
Updated: 2015-07-29
Packaged: 2018-04-11 20:15:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4450697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiddenlongings/pseuds/hiddenlongings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Pack had been hunting him for hours.  All of the hunters were sharply focused and followed his stale scent with ease and a hint of disgust.  The bitter scent of alcohol only fueled their burning desire to find him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crash & Yearn

The Pack had been hunting him for hours.  All of the hunters were sharply focused and followed his stale scent with ease and a hint of disgust.  The bitter scent of alcohol only fueled their burning desire to find him.

The lead Sentinel was more than relieved to feel the easing touch of her Guide on the small of her back as she followed the trail.  The video cameras on the subway had revealed a Sentinel an inch from sliding into a feral episode that would have left the bullying group of young gangsters dead.

The apparent Sentinel had remained in control as he tore through the young bloods that had attempted to take his whiskey bottle from him.

Carter was more than just impressed with the restraint that it had taken. It had left her desperately casting about for information on the middle aged man that had taken her breath away with his controlled violence.

The Center had been exceedingly helpful and the file that had appeared on her desk a couple of hours later was comprehensive and shocking.

John Reese had been a latent Sentinel when 9/11 had happened.  The training that the Special Forces had offered had allowed him to emerge as a full-blown Sentinel.  Too fragile and too prone to Zones he was released from the military's grasp.

Apparently while he was still latent Reese had found his Guide, one Jessica Arndt,  and as soon as he could make it back to the United States he had tried to find her and reconnect.

He managed to find her but not before her abusive husband had beaten her to death.  Peter Arndts actions had thrown Reese into a Feral Episode that left the other man dead and Reese a bloody wreck.

Then John had apparently locked down all of his senses and disappeared from the Center’s systems.  The file had made it clear that if Reese had been found he would be welcomed with open arms back into the arms of his Sentinel brothers and sisters.

  
Carter was proud of her position in the pack and she had worked hard to make sure that all of the Sentinel’s in distress that she tracked down were given the best of care.  The Center hadn’t always been a benevolent guardian to the Sentinels and Guides it housed but that had all changed with massive reforms throughout the government and burned through each individual Center city by city in the early nineties.

Carter knew that Reese would be in good hands and she had every hope that they would be able to help the struggling Dormant regain his footing if not his senses.

Abruptly the scent changed, alcohol and adrenaline were still  more than prevalent but this time spiky sharp pricks of fear was woven into the scent as the pack had gently herded him into an out of the way corner of the warehouse district.  

Carter lifted her hand in an upraised fist to halt everybody’s progress.  Leaning back she gave Cal the briefest of nuzzles before she slipped away from the pack to meet Reese alone and as peacefully as possible.

Reese was curled tightly into a ball and as far back as he could squeeze into a dark little corridor between two machines.  He was a tall man but all of the long limbs were wrapped in tight to his torso.  

His clothes were ragged and the scent made Carter snort and shake her head in an automatic reaction that had the man bearing his teeth at her in a false smile.

As she stepped closer and her eyes, always one of her weaker senses, adjusted to the dark shadows and let her see Reese’s face fully for the first time

His pupils were completely blown and his nostrils were flaring hard enough that Reese seemed to nearly gasp for air.  Carter tilted her head and considered what she saw crouched in front of her.

“Sentinel Reese, I am a member…”

“Of the Hunter’s.  Yes. That is obvious.”

“Maybe so,” Carter allowed as she leaned back against a convenient wall and let her arms cross her chest. “My name is Hunter Carter my pack and I are here to assist you and to guide you to the nearest Center.”

“I’ve had about all the assistance I can stand for the moment ma’am.”

The video had been starkly unkind to the young mundane police officer. He had come into the subway car and proceeded to pull his gun on a man nearly twice his age. Reese had been quietly sitting as far away from the pile of groaning bodies as he could manage and he had looked distinctly unimpressed with the puppy’s show of teeth.

The young officer had stepped first towards Reese and then towards the gangster before he relinquished responsibility and creative thought by grabbing with fumbling hands for his radio.  By the time he had looked back up Reese was long gone.

* * *

 

Reese felt like his eyes were whirling kaleidoscopes at this point.  The combination of alcohol and the bolting run he had made across the city had left him breathless and dizzy. Hunter Carter was little more than a shadowy blur, thanks to the glory of cheap whiskey.  He had no doubt that if he had been completely sober he would have run either straight into traffic or stood staring dumbly at a fluttering leaf until the pack could saunter up and collar him like some damn stray dog.

His senses had been dormant for so long as he slid like a shadow through the crumbling architecture of the underbelly of New York City.  The large homeless population had a small current of dormant Sentinels and Guides who through trauma or disability would never be able to take a place in a true Pride.  Reese had been welcomed into their ranks without question and alcohol had dulled him to the point of near peace.  

Those children on the subway car had obviously outed him to the tender mercies of a Center that was known for its guerilla tactics when accepting new Sentinels. Or more bluntly they were known for dragging anyone they found with that spark into the fold no matter how hard they kicked and protested.

Even as he ran Reese knew that his flight was ultimately going to be completely useless. If one pack tired a new one would come to take their place.  Hunting down victims, sorry Sentinels in need of assistance, without pause or quarter.

Well, they’d have to drag him out of his tight little niche first and then they’d either have to dart him or drag him to the nearest van.

He wasn’t going to fight anymore.  Hurting people who were just trying to do their jobs was not something he wanted to stoop to.  However, he might have been skinny but Reese was still a tall man and his dead weight was sure to be a pain in the ass to move.

A low hum behind him made Reese tense up sharply as he tried to skid to the side but the tight quarters worked against him.

He could just barely see the man if he craned his neck over his shoulder and focused bleary unwilling eyes on the bright smile of the Guide that had slid to within inches of him without being noticed.

“Sentinel Reese.”  Carter’s voice was both amused and irritated, “Meet Guide Beecher.”

Reese barely had time to gasp when he felt the sharp prick of the needle before the sedative dragged him down and left him sprawled unconscious on metal machinery and concrete.

* * *

 

Reese’s first moments of returned consciousness were spent gagging and spitting.  The sudden surge of nausea brought him abruptly awake and tumbled him out of the soft cot somebody had placed him on.  

The door creaked open slightly and Reese couldn’t  hold back the rumbling growl that erupted from his chest as he scrabbled away from the unknown person.

The man, a nurse, gently placed a bucket into the room before he shut  the door again quietly.  The room was small and free of any bright colors or harsh scents.  It should have been a balm to his senses but Reese could feel them dialing higher and higher searching for the concrete/gasoline/shouting that had been his new baseline.  

Somebody had obviously scrubbed him down and put a pair of cotton pants on him as well and the sudden lack of his own scent, offensive as it might have been, threw him into a further spiral.

He careened off of walls and scrabbled uselessly at the locked door before he finally dragged himself into the corner furthest from the door.  Reese clenched his hands until they were white and pink and fought to stop the shaking that was going through every limb and twining the panic tighter and tighter around his lungs until even the deep pants weren’t enough.

Bright sparks were just starting to float across his vision when the door opened again.  This time Reese couldn’t even muster a snarl, he just curled in tightly on himself and watched the tall man come a few feet into the room before he dropped into a crouch.

“G...Guide Beecher. How n...nice to see you again.”

Beecher smiled again and the skin around his eyes crinkled into deep lines.  

“Yeah, sorry about the sedative.”

John tipped his head to the side suddenly as he caught the tell tale skip of the heart.  It had been a long time since he had been able to do that.  The alcohol must be wearing off.

“Liar.”

Beech shrugged as he scrubbed a hand sheepishly through his short hair. The movement wafted his scent towards Reese and he could smell the Guide’s female Sentinel.  

“You’re right. I can’t say I’m too sorry.  You were being a pain in the ass to Hunt down and we didn’t want to risk anything happening to you if we lost your trail.”

“You’re concern is misplaced.”  John said as he relaxed his posture a little from the tight curl that he had wound himself into. “I’m fine.”

“An Alpha Sentinel living on the streets of New York and guzzling down alcohol to keep his senses locked down is not fine.”

“I’m not an Alpha anything.  I tested on the lower end of the range when I came online and nothing has changed.”

Beecher chewed on his lower lip as he stared intently at the older man.  Reese could almost see the man calculating the risks of whatever knowledge he was about to impart and he was not looking forward to the big reveal.

Either the Guide would lie to him about what was going on and prove himself to be completely untrustworthy, or he would tell him whatever hard truth was brewing in his mind and send John into another melt down.

“You’re testing was...incomplete.”

John let one eyebrow raise quizzically as he waited for the rest of it.

“The Guide that tested you was somewhat hasty when he decided that you were a level four because the Center had decided that he needed to meet a quota.  He was overworked and probably exhausted.”

“So what did he miss, and why was it important enough that an entire Pack decided to come after me?”

Beecher sighed as he finally settled onto the floor as he scrubbed his hands up and down his pants for several long moments as he worked through what he was about to say.

“Your match to Guide Arndt was a true one.  She was a good, a great, match for you.  Her death was a tragedy.  However we believe that your True Match was kept from you because of your testing score.”

“What?”  John had tensed again as soon as he heard Jess’s name and pulled himself into a low crouch. “What are you talking about? Jess.  She was my Guide.”

“An Alpha Sentinel can bond to a wide range of Guide’s because they usually have firm control over their gifts but they will never be able to utilise them as fully as they would if they met the Guide that is the perfect match for them.”

“No she was mine!”

“No one is disputing that.  Jessica Arndt was your Guide.  She would have lead you faithfully and was a good match for you.  However, we believe that the Center has found another match for you that will allow you to bond.”

“And if I don’t?”

“If you don’t bond with the match that we have found that is fine.  The Center is not trying to force a bond on you.  We are merely trying to make up for past mistakes.”

“Yet here I am.”  Snarled John as he finally got to his feet and towered over the seated Guide. “Drugged and dragged to a Center against my will while you spout bullshit about a True Guide.”

Beecher remained relaxed and calm.  His peaceful expression was backed up by the steady thrum of his heart and the inoffensive scent pile.

“The Centers mission is to protect Sentinels and Guides.  We have failed you and all we want is for you to gain a Guide that will be a force for good in your life.”

John shook his head and turned away from the Guide in front of him.  He would never begrudge another Sentinel of their Guide and he didn’t want to hurt the man in front of him.  But if Guide Beecher spouted one more saccharine sentence Reese was very much afraid he might swat the man to the ground.  

Beecher showed good instincts as he stood up and left the room without saying another word.  If they were going to keep him here against this will, Reese thought bitterly, they wouldn’t want to bait him too much.  The Center needed to keep up its shiny bright appearance that it had tried to spread far and wide since the administrative changes had left the Center a non-profit.

They wouldn’t want to lose their tax breaks after all. Wouldn’t want to alienate the Sentinels and Guides that they were tasked by the government to protect and shelter.

Reese shivered hard as he settled back into the complete silence of the soundproofed room.  The room was kept at a more than comfortable level for him even though he was half-naked.  But his skin felt like it was sliding this way and that as it fought against the soft cotton that felt as though it was lined with fiberglass.  

Jess had been a balm to his senses when he had come online.  The military had wanted to keep him after he come online but the sudden onslaught of allergies and extreme sensitivity made him all but useless to them.  His rating might have been a mistake but John couldn’t help but think that it had saved him from the machinations of an uncaring government.

The CIA had been sniffing around him for a number of months after 9/11 and his attempt at reenlistment.  He had been more than interested.  His urge to protect the pride that was the United States had thrummed through him strongly.  He hadn’t been able to complete the requirements though because of his sensitivities and he had come back to Jess only to find her newly married to a man that was emotionally and physically abusive.

Her own empathy as a Guide should have warned Jess of the impending danger but John’s abrupt disappearance after the tragedy had left her reeling and tumbled her right into the arms of Peter Arndt’s less than kind arms.

John had been latent when they had met but he could feel the thrumming possibility of what they could be.  It had been a wrenching decision to leave her behind but he had been tested regularly by the Center and every test that he had completed said the same thing.  

If he ever emerged it would be as a very low level Sentinel and even that was doubtful. He had all of the markers but combat and occasional isolation in the military had left him latent and there were whispers that he might even be dormant.

John could remember the fresh bloom of his senses when he finally came online though. The pamphlets that the Center provided had warned him that it might be overwhelming but nothing could prepare him for the abrupt miasma of the world as everything brightened and sharpened and tore at him from every direction.

It had apparently been a dramatic sight as he choked out a curse word before collapsing to the ground in a zone out so extreme that it had taken three separate Guides five hours to pull him free of it.

The CIA had pushed and pushed and finally relented when he couldn’t distinguish between three separate scents.  A task that even a newly emerged Sentinel should have had little difficulty with.  It had thrown him into another zone and they had washed their hands of him.

He had returned home and slunk towards Jessica.  As he rode towards the small town that she lived in he felt something crackle and break in his chest.

* * *

 

Getting a driver’s license had turned out to be an impossible task.  The frequency of his zone-outs made him a danger to himself and others on the road.  Hell, John thought with a wry curl of his lips, they had warned him against riding a bicycle.

Getting a taxi wasn’t too bad though. The driver seemed to have the good sense to keep his mouth shut and he had agreeably turned off the low music when John had asked him to.  It was getting dark out and Reese could feel the low thrum of nerves going through him as he got closer and closer to his Guide.

Jess had been perfect.  John could feel the edges of her beautiful bright mind even now.  He may have been latent when he had met her but that obviously hadn’t kept them from starting to bond if he could feel her from this distance.

Reese felt something snap sharply and Jess’ mind changed from the low pretty hum that he was already accustomed to.  It went dark and fearful around the edges in a snap of emotion.  Their bond thrummed hard through John’s chest for one long chest rending moment before it snapped into pieces and went completely black.

It had to have been some sort of miracle that Reese was able to get the driver to pull over and he quickly shoved a fistful of cash into the man’s hands before he broke into a sprint.

His breath was coming in and out of him in a breathless whine and Reese knew that he was whimpering but he couldn’t stop it.

The bond had gone dark but maybe.  Maybe she was just unconscious.  Maybe. Maybe.

Something came flashing out of the dark shadows that the large houses cast on the well lit street and skidded to a stop in front of him.  John had never seen his Spirit Animal before but as he stumbled to a reluctant stop as he recognized what he was seeing.

The cheetah was beautifully sleek and healthy but Reese could feel his own desperation reflected on the creature.  It’s ears were laid flat and a growl rumbled continuously out of his chest.

Reese snarled back as it blocked his path, but the snarl burbled to nothingness as the cat led him away from the streets and broke into a lope that he could just barely keep up with.  He didn’t know how but the Sentinel could feel the intent of the animal and he burst back into a sprint.\

He was going to lead him to Jessica.

The path that the cheetah took forced John over fences and through cracked and broken alley ways but it brought him to the beautiful house that Jessica lived in within minutes.  The cheetah shimmered back out of existence and John didn’t even stop to think before he kicked the door of the house with all of his power.  The blow sent the sturdy expensive door explosively inwards and wrenched the lock out of the wall.

Peter Arndt’s heartbeat sounded frantic and his low muttered words blaired in Johns ears like a foghorn.

“Get up.  Stupid. Just. Stop it. Get up!”

Reese took a corner too sharply as he bolted towards the kitchen and he slammed into a wall with enough force to crack the plaster.

Arndt looked up and his eyes widened as he scrabbled away from Jessica’s crumpled form.  Reese fought to control his breathing as he slid down next to his Guide.  He could smell the spreading blood that was pooling in her brain and a glance at the corner of the counter gave him all of the information he needed.

She’d been dead for a couple of minutes.

Reese clutched Jessica close to his chest and he heard Peter’s deep intake of breath as he started to recover from the shock of John’s sudden arrival.

“Who the hell are you?”

John buried his face in the long blonde hair one last time.  He drew in deep gasping breaths as he tried to ignore the spreading scent of death that was already starting to overtake her body.  He could smell her perfume, the musky scent from her underarms, the decay of her cells.

Peter grabbed John’s arm and tried to pull him away from the cooling body.

“I asked you a goddamn question.”

John wrenched his arm free and gently placed Jess’s body on the ground before he turned on the smaller man with a sound of guttural rage.

“You killed her.”  His voice was raspy and Arndt didn’t have enough time to react before he was slammed to the kitchen floor with John’s hands around his throat in a strangling grip that he fought against futilely.

When the police were finally called by a concerned neighbor they entered the brightly lit house at a little past four in the morning.  The destroyed door was met with concerned looks and drawn guns as the pair slid into the house and began to do a thorough sweep that ended at the kitchen.

Peter Arndt’s body had been shoved carelessly into a corner, his purpled throat and swollen tongue telling the story of his death.  One of the officers stepped closer thinking to at least attempt to check for a pulse when a low rumbling snarl had him backpedaling as fast as he could.

His partner looked over in time to see the Cheetah take a swipe with a slim paw at the other man and his eyes widened at the sight of a nearly corporeal spirit guide.

“Don get over here.”

Don didn’t question his older partner and hustled to his side.

“Sentinels are usually big cats right?” Don asked quietly as they watched the animal pace in front of the body occasionally pawing at it as if to make sure that he was dead.

“Yeah, I think we’re dealing with a feral episode here.  I’m going to call for backup and then we need to figure out where the Sentinel is.  He or she couldn’t have gone far.”

“I’m right here.”

The low voice brought both men spinning around and then they peered into a darkened corner of the dining room that had seemed empty enough just moments before.

The man was curled around the body of a young woman.  Don could see the stiffened limbs and pale color that gave him all of the information he needed.

“Was she your Guide?”

Pale eyes studied him for a moment before the shattered looking man buried his face into her neck and muttered a response.

“She is my Guide.”

* * *

 

John shivered hard as he brought himself back to the present and he stared forlornly at his bare feet for a moment before he crawled back into the warm blankets and soft padding that the cot provided.

His skin was still crawling but the cotton was soft enough for even the most sensitive of skin and he let the warm cloth pile up around him until he was completely buried beneath the covers.   The warm light wasn’t completely drowned out by the pale sheets but it was considerably dimmed and John could finally feel his senses start to calm a little even as his stomach roiled.

It had to have been at least ten hours since his last drink and the craving was hitting him hard in the gut and in the parched feeling of his mouth.  There was a small sink with a cup next to it that he could get some water from.  But he’d have to get up, and John didn’t really want water.  

Whiskey on the other hand. Whiskey sounded fabulous.

The sedative may have knocked him out but it didn’t feel like he had slept for at least a week and the soft covers and den like feeling that they provided lulled him enough that he dropped into an uneasy sleep.

Reese whimpered and twitched in his sleep but nobody bothered him for hours and hours as he slept off an exhaustion that had been dogging him ever since he had wound up on the street.  The hard concrete and slinking sticky fingers were enough to keep him constantly on edge.  The alcohol may have dulled his senses and his mind but he had still managed to give several beatings to desperate men who thought they could take everything that he had left.

The young thugs were just the latest and most spectacular example of that particular skill.

John didn’t really dream.  He had brief thoughts of running on the plains of Africa that were probably quiet little gifts from his spirit guide as it fought to give him some equilibrium as he fought against the cravings even as he slept.

When he finally awoke fully again it was to a rumbling belly.  John put all thoughts of pride out of his mind as he rolled out of the bed and fought against legs stiff and sore from his mad flight from the Hunt.  He stumbled towards the corner that had been set up with a toilet and a sink.

Reese ducked his head down low and, ignoring the cup, guzzled water straight from the tap. He drank and drank until the empty feeling in his belly was at least momentarily silenced.   

The Center hadn’t bothered to provide him with food. Smart of them, even the idea of food was making his stomach tie in queasy knots.  Or maybe that was alcohol withdrawal.  

A quiet tap on the door had him turning up and around as he swiped a hand across the damp trickles on his chin.

It’s Beecher.  His face was carefully free of emotion and he’s holding a file in his hand that smells like warm ink.  It’s contents had come straight out of a printer and John eyes it with distrust.

“He’ll be here soon.  You’re potential Guide.  He asked that his information be given to you in advance.”

“Why?” John drawled sarcastically. “He doesn’t want to disappoint me?”

Beecher doesn’t answer the questions just places the file on the bed before he leaves the room again.  Leaving John alone once again in a room that made his senses spiral and twist as they searched for stimulation.

Goddamn Center and their one size fits all treatment options.   Reese paced restlessly around the room his attention focused on the innocuous paperwork that waited patiently for him on the rumpled fabric.

No use going into a situation blind out of stubbornness though.  John grabbed the file and moved away from the bed again as he slid down the wall in a corner of the room.  The cool tiled walls on either side of him providing at least a little sensory relief as he swept his fingers over the still warm papers.

The file was surprisingly thick and John soon realized why when he opened it in the middle and landed straight in the midst of the Guide’s numerous medical records. He flipped to the front of the paperwork and stared at the small picture that was clipped to the very front page.

Whatever John might have expected it wasn’t this.  

* * *

 

Finch could feel his fingers trembling minutely as he straightened his tie in the mirror.  The bathroom at the Center was surprisingly accessible for his needs.  Though he thought as he straightened his pocket kerchief minutely, perhaps not that surprising.

The Sentinels and Guides that the world at large recognized fit a common mold.  The Sentinels were towering muscle men and if they were given any recognition for the work they did it was always through the lens of having protected the Tribe. Guides were slim and unassuming.  

Perhaps that was true for a great many of the more well known but no matter their gifts Sentinels and Guides were only human and they came in a variety of shapes and sizes. With all of the vulnerabilities and disabilities that one could expect from a member of humanity.

Finch finally felt prepared to leave the small bathroom and he quickly reached down and turned the wheels of his chair so that he was facing the door.  It opened quietly when he pushed the button that had been placed next to the sink.

Harold’s wheelchair slid quietly across the linoleum and over the transition strip with barely a bump as he met the man who would be introducing him to his possible Sentinel.

Finch had read through Reese’s file a number of times.  He had been nose deep in it before the Center had even managed to print out the information for the Pack. A touch unethical perhaps but Finch rarely let such things stand in his way.

He could easily read between the lines and the CIA’s interest in Reese made him something of a target if he were to ever truly gain control of his senses. The only reason they hadn’t snatched him up was because they had been concerned about his frequent zone outs.  But Finch had every hope that his protection would be enough to keep the younger man safe from the Government’s further attempts to use Sentinels up until they were of no further use.

Ellison and Sandburg had lead the charge for rights in the nineties and they had managed to make the sweeping changes necessary to turn the Center’s into what they were supposed to be.

Government interference had always been, and would continue to be, a huge problem however.  Many of the alphabet agencies weren’t interested in turning out well rounded individuals who would be able to protect their Tribe and lead fulfilling lives.  The CIA in particular would cycle through damaged Sentinels spitting them out and leaving them dead and dying in the Center’s secured rooms.

The early 2000’s had found the agency scooping up these men and women by the dozens from Center’s all over the country.  Bribery, blackmail, and intimidation had made the pickings easy and they were able to find the sort of damaged minds that would be more than willing to take on jobs that would have left any healthy Sentinel damaged beyond repair.

John Reese had almost been one of them.  The Guide that had participated in Reese’s intake had been one of the worst of the guilty that Finch had found.

The man had been accepting money and favors for nearly a decade by the time Reese had been brought into the Center and the man had done his best to ensure that Reese would be left a fractured mess that the CIA could scoop up without consequences. The only thing  that had saved the young Sentinel was his sensitivity and the tightly coiled power that only an Alpha Guide would be able to access.

The reprehensible Guide had been one of the first that Finch had dethroned in his bid for control.  It had been extremely satisfying.

Finch had spent a lot of time and money to gain control of as many Center’s as he possibly could. His efforts had paid off and he had soon gained the upper hand needed to stymy the worst of it. Now the CIA might be able to find the occasional Sentinel in the military but the word was spreading far and wide and most were choosing to steer clear of being treated like fodder.

Finch had made sure of it.

Ellison and Sandburg may have been top men in the field twenty years ago but times had changed, and so had Sentinels and Guides.

As he rolled out into the carpeted hallway Finch gave Guide Beecher a slight smile as he approached the other man.

“Cal. So good to see you again.”

“You as well Director. I’m so happy you were willing to meet with your Match.”

Finch’s smile was a little self deprecating as he patted at his tie again and started to head towards the room that they were housing Reese in.

“It was a wonderful surprise to be sure.  Although.” Finch bit his lip for a moment. “I wouldn’t be surprised if I was rejected out of hand.”

“Director!” Beecher objected strenuously but Finch waved him off.

“Not because of my vanity Cal.  I simply think having somebody tranqed is perhaps not the best first impression that could be made.  There is of course Guide Arndt to consider as well.”

“Of course sir.” Cal subsided.

Finch could feel the slow eddying of emotions coming off of the other Guide and he let them lap at his own in soothing waves for several long silent moments as he tried to structure his next query.

“How...how is he?”

“Pissed.”

Finch snorted hard trying to restrain his laughter at the unexpected word.  

“Yes, I would imagine so.  I know he didn’t come willingly but he hasn’t attempted to hurt anybody has he?”

Finch had read that report as well...while Hunter Carter was writing it.  It had amused him to see her type out and then delete several less than kind imprecations against the Sentinel. But he wanted to hear Cal's side of the story.

Beecher was silent for several long strides as he seemed to gather his thoughts before came to a halt in the corridor.

“I don’t believe he would ever willingly hurt somebody that wasn’t trying to hurt him.”

“But?”

“But, the man is completely shattered emotionally and physically.  Whoever let him out of the Center after Guide Arndt’s death should be fired.”

“On that. We are completely agreed.”

* * *

 

John didn’t know how long he had been reading but it felt like hours and moments all at the same time.

The Director of the United States Center’s was coming to see if they could bond.  Finch’s face was well known across the country and he was known for leading the Center’s under his care with an iron fist.

The car accident that had left him wheelchair bound had been an assassination attempt by less than savory human traffickers to break the protection and power that the Centers now stood for.  It had been in the news for months and Reese had kept up to date on it with the newspapers that he used as his blankets and fire fuel.

The file was both impersonal and deeply revealing as it discussed the man’s multiple surgeries to fuse his spine and graft new skin to his back.  The details were horrifying and John felt a pang as he flipped back towards the front of the file to reread the information on his potential bondmate again.  He started to read but was once more caught up by the arresting photo of the man.

Finch was smiling slightly at whoever was taking the picture.  His features calm and his hair a mad spikey mess that left him looking eternally electrocuted.  The disparity between the neat suit and the wild hair made John stroke the picture with a thumb.

He looked like an interesting person and he must be a very intelligent one to have risen to such prominence in such a short time.

Which begged the question, why would he want John?  He had thought Jess was it for him and yet the picture was so arresting.  Beecher had said they were a near perfect Match.  Genetics didn’t lie and other Sentinels were known to have had multiple Guides over the course of their lifetimes. All of these thoughts rushed and jumbled through his head as he studied the older man’s picture.

But Reese wasn’t anything special. A washed up ex-military man with a penchant for alcohol, crippling guilt, and homelessness.

Not exactly a match made in heaven.

Finch’s eyes were kind though.  John found himself studying their blue and stretching his eyesight a little to try and get a better look at them.  The picture faded to pixels quickly and John found himself completely arrested by their wavering movement.  They seemed to dance and shimmer across his eyes and John unthinkingly dialed them even higher to try and see their movement more clearly.

* * *

 

Beecher tapped on the door quietly before he stuck his head in to see where the Sentinel was. He found him immediately.  John was curled up tightly in the same corner that he had found before when he had first regained consciousness.  The file in his hands was drooping low and papers were falling out of it.

Beecher bit back a curse as he hurried into the room and left the door open for Harold to enter behind him.

The wheelchair thumped lightly as it went from the thin carpet of the hallway to the thicker carpet in the isolation room and Beecher could feel the twinge of worry that went through the other man as he realized that Reese had zoned out.

“Wait Cal.”  Finch’s voice was soft but the steel underneath made him freeze in his tracks.

Beecher turned to look at the Director helplessly as he waited to hear the other man out.

“If you would please help me out of my chair I believe I will have the best chance of rousing him.”

The Guide bit his lip but walked over to Finch without hesitation.  

“Are you sure you’re well enough to be doing this Director?”

“Absolutely not. My doctors will have a field day.  However since I am going to do it regardless it would be best to have some assistance.”

“Of course sir.”

Finch slowly wheeled himself closer to the zoned out Sentinel and once he was as close as he could get without running the other man over he wordlessly held out his hands to the other Guide.

Beecher first knelt down to position the foot rests of the chair to either side so that Finch would be able to stand without stumbling over them.  He got back to his feet and wrapped both his hands around Finch’s wrists and gently pulled back to give the man some leverage and support as he stood on very shaky legs.

It was only a couple of steps but it left Finch pale and shaky with pain.  Beecher wrapped one of his arms around the older man’s shoulders and helped guide the man to the ground without bending his spine more than necessary.

When Cal finally stepped back Finch was seated right next to Reese with his legs out straight in front of him and angled so that he wouldn’t have to twist too far to reach for the other man.

For several long moments all Finch could do was breath deeply as he tried to recover from the pain of the ill-advised movements.  When he finally could feel the pain start to lessen a little he turned his attention to the Sentinel in front of him.

The picture that had been given to him had been several years old and Finch could see that those rough years had taken their toll on the Sentinel in front of him. His hair was shaggy and iron gray the color matching Reese’s beard.  The parts of his face that wasn’t covered by the facial hair were deeply lined and his skin was wind and sun burned.  

His eyes were beautiful though.

They were almost fully opened as the Sentinel zoned on something and the pale ice blue of them were surprisingly pretty in the rough face.  The fact that they were still open gave Finch a pretty good idea about what sense the man had zoned on.

His hands trembled a little with residual pain but Finch didn’t hesitate to gently wrap his fingers around Reese’s wrist. The younger man’s fingers were clutching desperately at the file and he was nearly curled around the paperwork. Finch followed John’s gaze and found himself looking at one of his own pictures.

He would have to figure out what had triggered the Sentinel at a later time but for the moment, Finch let his thumb stroke across Reese’s pulse point.  The delicate skin pulsed underneath him and he could feel the warm recognition in his core of having met a perfect match.

His back was still twinging a little but all Finch could focus on was the rough curl of Reese’s body. Zones affected each Sentinel differently, some went completely limp and had been known to concuss themselves if they weren’t caught before they hit the ground or any nearby furniture.

John on the other hand seemed stiffly frozen.

His fingers were clenched and his bone pale feet were tightly curled.  The Sentinel’s limbs were almost vibrating with tension.  His body was heading towards too thin and Finch can see the ravages that stress, hunger and alcohol had had on him. His Sentinel, possible Sentinel he corrected himself sharply, is still the best thing he’s seen in a very long time.

The sponge bath he had received while tranqed had left him sweet smelling with only a hint of sweet musk perfuming the air.  Finch may not have had the same superior olfactory senses that a Sentinel was gifted with but his primal instincts still had him scenting the air in long slow huffs. The instincts that helped form the backbone of his personality as a Guide were practically purring with pleasure.  A low thrum of urgency was spreading as well though as Reese remained oblivious to his presence.

Finch’s Spirit Guide appeared without fanfare and slunk towards them with an unusual hesitance. Before he can get too close Finch hears an inquisitive chirp and his eyes are immediately drawn to Reese’s elegant Cheetah.

The big cat was laying Sphinx like with it’s long legs stretched out in front of it. Its head is tipped to one side as it watches Finch’s Spirit Guide with unabashed curiosity. One dainty paw reaches out slowly and taps the approaching Spirit respectful of the spikes. Finch had to restrain a smile at the indignant squeak that produced.  The little hedgehog gave a grumpy huff as it trundled a little closer.  

Not exactly the norm for an Alpha Guide’s spirit animal but the creature stalked around on tiny legs with all of the majesty and attitude of any stereotypical wolf guide.

Harold was perhaps more secretive of his Guide than was warranted but he had already heard more than enough comparisons between his hair and flesh and blood hedgehogs than anyone should have to tolerate.

No need to add fuel to the fire.

The little spirit tromped up to the wide-eyed cat and plopped down on his rear end with another put upon sigh. The Cheetahs long chest fur pressed warmly against his spiky side. Gently arching its neck the cat leaned down and snuffled before giving a surprised sneeze at the ticklish pokes. If looks could kill the hedgehogs indignant glare would have dropped the sheepish looking cat in its tracks. The cat finally dropped its head carefully so that its cheek was pressed in to the hedgehogs soft belly and gave a great heaving sigh before it closed its eyes in relief.

The sudden and complete relaxation carried over to the zoned out Sentinel almost immediately.  The heavy tension Finch had seen in Reese’s body abruptly released and the man abruptly slumped without a sound and the file and its picture fell out of his lax grasp with a fluttery thump as it hit the ground.

Finch let himself slump down as well until he could feel the warmth radiating off of the bigger mans body.  He still had a soft grip on the Sentinel’s hands and he cupped the still pale digits in the cup of his hands trying to help them regain some of their lost circulation.  He brought them up to his mouth his mouth and breathed in warm puffs of air on them until they were more pink than white.

The door clicking open and shut as Beecher quietly left the room was only acknowledged peripherally and Finch keeps all of his attention focused on the man in front of him. Reese remains unmoved for several long moments before the gentle touch and the welcome warmth in the cool room made him blink hard several times.  He slowly turned towards the man, who was still holding his hands between his own, and met his Guides gaze for the first time.

“Hello, Mr. Reese.” Finch said slowly. “I’m so very pleased to meet you.”


End file.
